By the time Applejack got home, the rest of the family was long asleep. She crept into her room and sat on her bed, but sleep evaded her. The biscuit she’d been given was still grasped in her hoof, and she held it up, staring at it. In a way the scene was quite similar to how the tragic hero of Pear Shake’s famous drama looked at the skull.
“The pony who isn’t suspicious… is suspicious. The pony that’s not suspicious… I don’t get it. Nopony’s suspicious. Everypony’s suspicious. How am I supposed to get the hang of this?” she groaned, as she idly played with the baked good.
Applejack didn’t notice how loud she spoke, because suddenly the door creaked open and Big Mac stuck his head in. “Is everything okay, AJ?” he asked.
“I just don’t get it. Am I really wearin’ a pumpkin for a head?” she asked bitterly.
“What happened?” Mac asked, as he stepped into the room.
“Twilight confessed,” came the grim answer. “Everything.”
“Everything?” Even in the half-gloom of the room, it was plainly clear that Big Mac’s cheeks became slightly redder than usual.
“Everything,” Applejack echoed, staring into nothing in front of her, not paying any real attention to him.
“I… uh… I… Darnit,” Big Mac mumbled. “She promised she wouldn’t.”
Applejack sighed deeply. “Mac, please don’t tell me you’re part of this whole thing.”
He tapped the ground with his hoof. “Well, it’s just that…” He trailed off.
“What?” She finally stared him down and Mac shrunk back a little.
“Well, you know, her and I…” His face became as red as a lobster.
Applejack still didn’t follow. “You and her?”
“We did… that,” he practically mouthed instead of speaking.
Applejack blinked in disbelief. “Stars… How did this all happen?”
“We were in the guestroom.”
“She was in bed.”
“I was in the bed too.”
“And…? Haybales, Mac, just spit it out already!” Applejack snapped at him. “I won’t think any less of you, but ya need to tell me how you’re part of this whole thing if I wanna keep ya out of trouble. Are you a Solar now too? What did you two talk about?”
“What? No, nothing like that!” Big Mac looked at his sister with wide eyes, before averting them and coughing. His ears flopped down. “We… Didn’t exactly talk either.”
“I’m losin’ my patience, Mac. What did you two do then?”
“She was shivering so hard, so I cuddled her,” the admission came quieter than a whisper. “We hardly even got into position when those bats came.”
“Uh-huh, so cuddlin’.” The gears turned slowly in Applejack’s mind. “And that’s all that happened?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s all.” He still wasn’t looking at her.
“Right.” Applejack didn’t feel entirely convinced. She knew her brother, she could see those little telltale signs that he wasn’t telling the whole story. “Did she seem any suspicious to you? Maybe mention somethin’ special?”
“Nnnope.” Mac held up his hooves defensively. “Whatd’ya mean ‘special’?”
Applejack sniffed. “Dunno, ponies, anythin’ like that.”
“She said she didn’t have a special somepony.”
That still left Applejack in the dark, with a sore heart in tow. She sighed and scratched her scar. At least it didn’t seem like anything untoward had occurred then, or that Twilight had let slip of anything incriminating. “Of course, of course. The least suspicious pony is the most suspicious one.” She sighed again, thinking. “That’s exactly what Miss Pie said is all. It’s just so confusin’.” Her eyes wandered over to the biscuit, which she idly hoofed over to her brother. “Go ahead, eat it, you need the sugar more than me right now.”
Big Mac quickly seized the opportunity to promptly excuse himself from the room, leaving Applejack alone with her thoughts. All the little creaks and noises of the farmhouse that usually lulled her into sleep just aggravated her. She tried lying down, but still she found no rest.
After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Applejack suddenly felt very cold. Still not feeling any sleepy, she trotted down into the kitchen and lit a small fire in the oven.
She peered into the hypnotising dance of the flames and, ever so slowly, her eyelids became heavier and heavier. Pinkie Pie’s words echoed in her ears again and again until they faded into noise. Applejack blinked, then blinked again, this time a bit longer. Her eyes slowly closed and she didn’t open them again. A long snore left her lips. In her dream she saw spies acting completely inconspicuously and innocents acting suspiciously.
Meanwhile the oven continued to just burn and burn, until a spark jumped from the flames and landed on a bit of uneaten, dried out hay.
It smouldered for a few seconds, before it caught on fire properly, hissing and crackling, then quickly spreading from the hay onto the plate, then the wooden table, and then onto the planks of the floor. The smoke entered Applejack’s nostrils, and she frowned. In her dream the spies turned into fire… in a completely non-suspicious way.
The realisation that the heat that started to singe her coat was real struck Applejack like lightning and her eyes snapped open. Where once her kitchen stood, now she found herself almost completely surrounded by an inferno. All around her the room was painted in hellish colours of reds an oranges, illuminating the dusk with a daytime glow. She wasted no time and dashed through the hallway, bursting into Apple Bloom’s room and grabbing the filly out of her bed. On the way outside she screamed for her brother, who emerged seconds later, at first confused, but the grogginess immediately left his eyes when he saw the flames following close behind.
The three Apples rushed outside. Applejack wished Granny was still around to direct them. She was certain even a fire like this would be no match for the old mare. But with her gone, Applejack had to improvise. She told Apple Bloom to get some pegasi with clouds, while she and Big Mac rushed off to find buckets. Their legs strained from the tiredness and the speed they worked at, but they soon had to admit that the endeavour was fruitless. Two ponies were simply not enough. Regardless of how much they dumped onto it, no amount of water seemed to help, and the house continued to burn.
A bit later, Apple Bloom returned, sniffling and alone. As Applejack held her, the dam burst and she broke out in tears, whimpering into her sister’s coat how nopony was willing to come help them out. As she listened to her sister’s mewling, Applejack looked off into the distance, away from her siblings and away from the farmhouse. Her vision was just as blurry. It’s just the smoke, she told herself.
The Acres burned to the ground that night. The only silver lining that stopped Applejack from completely breaking down was the fact that her trees were all far enough to remain unharmed.
The next morning a carriage stopped next to the still-smoking ashes of what used to be the Apples’ home. Pinkie Pie positively exploded from inside, throwing her hooves around Applejack, grasping her tightly with all her might. With her came an army of pegasi, all carrying rain clouds of various shapes and sizes. Upon the nod of Pinkie’s head, they began pouring water all over the smouldering ruin, drowning the call of the early morning birds’ in a chorus of hissing and sputtering.
“Oh, Jackie, Jackie, I’ve heard the news. Awful, truly awful!” Pinkie’s tears near matched the downpour, as she then blew her nose into a large hoofkerchief with three balloons sewn into it, making noises that would have put a trumpet to shame. “See, that’s just how things are. The Solar-Lunar conflict is escalating. The Acres burned down. That’s just how things are, no use arguing it.” She furrowed her brows and looked around with suspicion. “But… Can we really be sure it was an accident?” she asked quietly.
“I’m darn sure it wasn’t,” Applejack replied with open ire, as she angrily eyed the eager crowd of late saviours toiling above. “Not a single pegasus was willin’ to help put it out.”
“I’m so sorry, Applejack.” Pinkie sniffed, while wiping her tears away. “Remember though, life is no marzipan cake. Pick yourself up. We throw pies in others’ faces and we get pies thrown in our own.”
Pinkie patted Applejack a few times on the back, then she gingerly pulled the farmer’s face up. She stared into her eyes. “Listen, I know it hurts, but this isn’t the end. The Acres will be rebuilt. It’ll be more Sweet and more Apple than it ever was.”
Applejack removed herself from Pinkie’s grasp and put a hoof behind her head. “Uh, I really appreciate that offer, Miss Pie, but the homestead is somewhat of a family heirloom, y’know? Wouldn’t really feel right to have it rebuilt by others.”
Pinkie, however, gently pulled her back. “Nonsense!” she said, beaming. “It’s the least I can do for such a good friend. We help each other out, right?” she asked with a tip of her head and a wide smile.
“As I’ve just told ya, I’d really prefer—”
“Right?” Pinkie asked again, rolling her R and staring deeply into Applejack’s soul.
Applejack huffed and turned away, but didn’t say anything. Pinkie meanwhile faced towards the now-soaked remains of where once the house stood. “Mmm, I can see it already in my head, it’s gonna be just great! ‘The Moon is the limit!’,” she quoted with an exalted look on her face. “Do you know who said that?”
Applejack sighed. “I could guess,” she replied sourly.
It was like things had turned upside down with the arrival of Pinkie. Ponyville, which used to be a perfect, textbook example of a town where nothing ever happened, suddenly became loud from ponies hustling and bustling, each moving with some real or imagined importance in their steps to help with the cause.
The Apples were temporarily relocated to the empty library in the middle of the town. Applejack wasn’t really a fan of the place. It’s not like it wasn’t cozy enough, despite its years of disuse. No, rather it was the slight stuffiness in the air, the old dusty books, and the warm but lonely interior of the great oak tree, which all reminded her of Twilight. Applejack could easily picture her diligently keeping all the books in order, while also fawning over whichever old tomes this library hid that to her would have only been hogwash.
Applejack smiled at the mental image, until Pinkie’s words rang again in her head and the warmth first faded from her smile, then from her body, and she shuddered. All the foalish idyll in the world could not change the facts.
Twilight confessed… everything.
What terrified Applejack the most was the fact that she didn’t quite understand what this just meant. What exactly did Twilight confess? Stars knew that mare was determined to go to Tartarus itself to return the Night Princess. There could be simply no way for her to betray Her Majesty now, could be? Something did not add up.
By the end of the week, Applejack grew to hate the Golden Oak Library and would have loved nothing more than to leave behind the rooms that always made her expect to see a purple mare pop up next to her at any second. But each time she tried, the two unicorns posted next to the library’s door just wordlessly shoved her back inside and, with Pinkie far away, Applejack had no other choice than to just bide her time and wait.
At least she had Bloom and Mac to spend her time with.
While Applejack faced her trepidation, Pinkie Pie held herself to her promise. Not only did she order the Acres to be rebuilt, she herself led the effort. Like a blur she darted between Ponyville and Canterlot, giving orders, organising, delivering various materials, and gathering a group of workers so great, others could have only dreamt of such a workforce.
“What do you mean we don’t have enough wood?” Pinkie screamed at one of the workers, stabbing a hoof into his chest, shaking the nearby forest to its core. The stallion winced from Pinkie’s overwhelming presence and shrunk back, but no coherent words came to his lips. All he could finally do was sputter and mutter a half-hearted apology, but Pinkie was unmoved. “I will have wood. Get wood, I don’t care where from. You’ll get me wood even if you have to grow it on a tree!” Pinkie finally stopped her relentless assault on the poor pony, who immediately seized the opportunity to scurry away. Pinkie stared after him for a few seconds, then scoffed, finally turning towards the rest of the crowd, who stared back at her mortified. “What’cha all waiting for? Hurry up, ponies! I will not argue this. Get more nails and tiles! Hurry! Hurry!”
Soon work ramped up to full speed and the new house quickly rose in height. Pinkie masterfully bent the workers to her will, overwhelming those who had big ideas with her presence, while rewarding others with sweets. She even cooked for the workers in a makeshift kitchen she crafted from the wreckage and nearby, unused planks to further improve the mood. Soon the smell of ashes was overtaken by the sweet aroma of her sugary delights.
The ruins were safely carried away by groups of unicorns and buried in holes dug by earth ponies, as groups of pegasi worked to bring in new materials. A few batponies loitered around in the crowd, their Moon-shaped pins glinting in the sunlight. Though they weren’t too keen on helping out, their slit-like eyes constantly monitored the workers and they were quick to descend on anypony deemed suspicious, taking them for a round of friendly questioning. But who could account for one or two disappearances during such cheerful and speedy work?
Work progressed so well, in fact, that the walls just kept getting higher and higher, with seemingly no end in sight. It was Applejack who, after being allowed to finally lay eyes on the house after a week of being stuck at the Library, finally had to ask Pinkie to tell the enthused workers to be so kind as to also make doors and windows on the building.
The end result was a little lopsided and certainly showed the artistic vision of at least ten different know-betters. What was once a building designed by necessity and practicality was now abstract art in the fullest, painted to three different, clashing colours, with annexes and rooms jutting all over the place. Applejack was certain her ancestors were rolling in their graves and that if her trees could feel shame, they would rid themselves of all their apples at the sight.
But, at the very least, the building was tall. It was so tall, in fact, that it reached the signpost that had been placed high above the worksite, which read: “The Moon is the limit!”